


click (slick)

by discopolice



Category: Toaru Kagaku no Railgun | A Certain Scientific Railgun
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:25:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discopolice/pseuds/discopolice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misaki has mind control powers. Kuroko is susceptible. Mikoto is tied up. There's an encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	click (slick)

_Click._

Her knees weaken, her eyes go starry, as though her mind’s been turned between the channels and white noise is sparking between her ears. She almost notices onee-sama arcing lightning from her crimson cheeks –  _almost,_ but then it’s lost in a sharp  _zap_  as the remote slips back into the Queen’s purse.

“Now, Shirai-san, will you give me what I want?” Perfectly manicured fingers trail their way down her face, and she knows she should move but her feet are seemingly glued in place, her body filled with a thick, tingly fog. She’s vaguely aware of the slickness between her legs, contained in the purple lace that she’d only ever intended onee-sama to see; the hand tracing the outline of her leg-band suggests otherwise.

“I mean, think about it.” The sensual purr keeps coming, breath puffing against her ear; she thinks to pull away, to run and get out of the grasp of this crazy  _sexy_  conniving _enticing_  bitch, but the thought is quickly dispelled with another zap between the temples. “See, Shirai-san, you can make her jealous! Your precious onee-sama… she’ll never look at you.” Mikoto gives a yell and strains hard against her bonds, but Kuroko barely hears it. “But we…  _we_  can make her realize what she’s missing, can’t we?”

_No. No!_  “Yes,” her lips murmur, and she arches into the slow trail of Misaki’s fingers down her chest. It’s gentle in a way onee-sama’s hands aren’t, and she finds her senses spiraling into those hands, the way Misaki guides her back towards the wooden table littered with Judgment paperwork. With a flick of the remote Kuroko moves, a puppet on a string, taking off her uniform vest; in a last display of resistance she clutches onto the fabric, only for another zap to leave her fingers limp, cloth falling to the floor.

“See, Misaka-san? Your pet is being so good for me.” Misaki twists her lips up in a sick grin, eyes sparking, matching the intensity of Mikoto’s defiance. She takes her sweet time working open the buttons of Kuroko’s shirt, spreading it open to expose the slight swell of her chest; but there’s something in the cold air between her breasts and the way that Mikoto brims with electricity that sets Kuroko off.

“Let onee-sama  _go_ —“ She tries to teleport, to struggle, but the ensuing zap leaves her paralyzed; she falls in a broken heap to the ground, head smacking against the table as she goes. It hurts, but arousal spikes in her stomach, being at eye-level with Misaki’s— _ah._ Kuroko can see her panties are  _soaked through_ ,and if there’s one thing on her mind right then it is to taste, to feel with her tongue how wet Misaki is for her.  _In such a way as onee-sama will never be_ , the back of her mind – Misaki? herself? she doesn’t know – taunts.

Without thought, the stars clouding her vision, Kuroko inches forward to tilt her head up, to stick her tongue out and trail it along the white fabric of Misaki’s panties; but the other girl drags her back up by the collar. She has other plans, after all, ones that won’t be interrupted by her little pet getting ahead of herself – no matter how flushed, how shaky that pet is for her. (And oh, does  _that_  thought make her stir.)

“Now, Shirai-san, get rid of your shirt for me.” The shirt’s gone in a second. “Pull your bra up, too, won’t you?” Her face flushes with embarrassment, with the part of her that’s still there and witnessing everything she does; but she does it, pulling the lacy fabric up and over to expose her nipples. “Ah, yes, that’ll be good… Shirai-san’s cute nipples are so hard for me, aren’t they?” And Misaki’s hands are  _there_ , thumbs flicking over her nipples, then fingers harshly pinching when Kuroko arches up into the touch and groans aloud. The sharp pain combines with another zap to her brain to make the younger girl yell out, and Mikoto wriggles in her seat just a few meters away; then Misaki’s nails scratch roughly down her stomach, leaving angry red marks in their wake.

“Lift your skirt.” Kuroko does it without a second thought, looking down at her feet, trying to focus on anything but the way Misaki’s shirt is unbuttoned to reveal just a hint of tantalizing cleavage. “That’s a good girl. Misaka-san, are you watching? Make sure you watch how Shirai-san likes it when I touch her pussy, okay?” Those perfect fingers trace up her inner thigh, from the top of her leg-band up, then slip under her panties to sink roughly into her core. Tears slip down Kuroko’s cheeks, of embarrassment and pleasure and deeply-buried fury; she bucks into Misaki’s hands though she doesn’t want to, searches for friction on her twitching clit though she wants to pull away and run.

“She doesn’t  _belong_  to you!” The shout comes from the other side of the room, from where Mikoto’s tied with her hands behind her back; the minute Kuroko registers it, Misaki curls her fingers sharply, and she yelps as the zap shocks her spine. But as quickly as Misaki’s fingers were there they are gone, and Kuroko’s body cries out for more, twitching forwards.

“On your knees, please, Shirai-san.” She sinks to her knees; without prompting, she knows what Misaki wants her to do. With shaky hands she peels Misaki’s panties away, lets them drop to her ankles; and Misaki lets her, hands tangling in the other girl’s pigtails. With the first touch of Kuroko’s tongue, the blonde girl grabs her hair and pulls upwards, and Kuroko groans as her face is pushed into wet heat. Then Misaki begins to ride her face, grins towards the ceiling fan as Kuroko bends to her body, stretches herself towards Misaki’s lips.

It doesn’t take long for Misaki to come, not with the frantic rolling of Kuroko’s tongue across her clit, the way Kuroko’s small hands grasp her thighs and melt into her skin. When she tips over she looks at Mikoto, though, eyes consumed with a possessive lust, jaw clenched in a smirk as she hisses out a breathy moan. Almost as an afterthought she reaches down to Kuroko, stilling her movements, and yanks her up by the hair to a shaky standing.

“You’ve been a good girl, Shirai-san. You want to come?” She purrs it, fingers pressing against the slick of Kuroko’s panties.

“ _Please_ ” is all Kuroko can manage, and she spreads her legs to accommodate Misaki’s fingertips pressing against her clit through fabric. She comes almost untouched, shrieking, falling to her knees in a near-puddle; she yelps and tosses her head back as Misaki’s fingers make her come again, then again, until it hurts and her voice goes hoarse.

Misaki gives Kuroko a lingering kiss, her teeth sinking into Kuroko’s lower lip; the bite barely registers. Kuroko is too exhausted, too limp and fucked out to even move. With a conniving smile towards Mikoto she strides over, chin high, to undo the other girl’s bonds.

“See, Misaka-san?” she whispers, in Mikoto’s ear. “Everything you think you have can be mine, in a second. Well, I’ll be going!” And she’s gone before Mikoto can even think, let alone retaliate.

She comes to her senses eventually, though, to find Kuroko on the floor, dazed – and she rushes over only to get a confused look.

“Onee-sama… what happened?”


End file.
